I'm holding out for spring.
For sunshine, and longer days, and runs at my office after work.
I realized a few days ago--I've missed the last two springs in my life--isn't that amazing?
2010 was my father's diagnosis, dealing with the beginning of a thing called a 'treatment plan' and then that whole business of getting a bad relationship over and done with;
2011 was lost to my father's illness suddenly becoming terminal, and the rapid onslaught of all that goes along with saying good-bye to someone you love, time not on your side.
So I'm looking forward to having a spring to myself--one where I amp up my runs to 40 k a week long before July comes around, one where I sit outside on my rooftop in the longer evenings, wearing a light jacket, holding a glass of wine, that stays cold--spring apparently won't be that warm after the mild winter we've had. It's also supposed to be wetter than usual (that means grey, too) but once the light comes back I don't mind.
The drawback of spring is that Mike will be back in Maine. I will talk to him on the phone every day, mostly more than once (my sister teases me about how many times we talk on the phone when he goes home, it's our thing, it's our way of being right there). I will miss him. I will channel this missing into running, into reading many books in a week, I will visit the library alot, I will drink alot of coffee on the weekends, and I will stare at the walls of my empty apartment, empty without him, and think about summer and fall.
I know I will do alot of "this time last year I was doing this..."
And I'll do it all with a backdrop of peace and acceptance.